


Immortality

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Bandits & Outlaws, Body Modification, Bromance, Character Death, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Immortality, Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, Magic Revealed, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Morgana Knows about Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Violence, Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), but not really, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Merlin's never really thought too much about death, until he has to save Arthur's life, again. This time, it goes slightly differently to how he expected.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 61
Kudos: 515





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin hadn't ever really thought about dying. Not properly, not with the energy he was now. It shouldn’t surprise him, he came close to death so many times, but he was strangely lucky. Had outsmarted death so many times, that maybe he had become used to the luck. Now, however, he was starting to realise that, at the end of the day, death was waiting for everybody.

This time, it was either him or Arthur. The man had made that clear, the knife against Arthur’s neck indicating what would happen if Merlin didn’t comply. The Knights were down, held in place by men that Merlin regretted not taking seriously. Gone was the opportunity to use his magic discreetly, without Arthur noticing.

If he did use Magic now, he wasn’t sure what he could do that would save them. Arthur’s neck was bleeding slowly, Gwaine was face-first on the floor, cheek squashed into stone. Lancelot was staring at him, urging him to do something, but Merlin was stumped.

‘Make your decision.’ The man snarled, lip curling up in anger, and Merlin wished he had a little more time. It wasn’t like it was a difficult decision, if it came to it, he’d always lay his life down for Arthur. He’d done it before, drinking the poison instead of Arthur, using his life as an offering to heal Arthur. So many occasions, and he’d meant it, every single time.

_‘Till the day I die.’_ The words had been the truth, Merlin was honoured to be Arthur’s servant. Would happily do it, till the day he died. He just hadn't thought that would be today, in some stone building, with a rusty dagger that he’d have to use to kill himself. If he did this, there was no guaranteeing they would let Arthur go. Which was why he was using the brief moments he had to formulate a plan.

**_‘Morgana, if you can hear me, I need you to protect Arthur. Please.’_** Morgana, although living in Camelot, was still not highly trusted by her brother. Merlin had done everything he could to stop destiny, to cheat it, and now he was beginning to understand the price he had to pay. All these years hiding his Magic, and he couldn’t use it now to save himself.

Ironic, he mused, turning the blade over in his hand. Arthur went to speak, probably to tell him not to be an idiot, but the sword dug deeper and he was forced back into silence.

So, death. Merlin wondered how bad it could really be, if it would be painful for very long. If Arthur would be forced to watch, if he would go back to Camelot and tell Gaius that he had died bravely. It didn’t seem very brave, his hand was already shaking slightly, but he didn’t understand why. Death shouldn’t scare him, had he not gone willingly so many times?

Maybe it was his loyalty to Arthur. Right now, that was what he focused on, the fact that if he did this, Arthur would live. That was all Merlin ever needed, all he’d ever worked for.

**_‘Merlin? I’m coming, hold on, I’m on my way…’_** Whatever she was about to say was cut off, Merlin didn’t need to hear it anymore. These men would face the wrath of one of the most advanced High Priestesses that had ever lived, and they would suffer because of it.

Always for Arthur, he thought, gripping the blade tighter. It wouldn’t take long, one movement, and it would all be over. He’d be doing what he was born to, serving Arthur, protecting him.

It seemed only fitting that he died doing his life’s work.

His arm moved quickly, the blade against his neck cold, and Merlin didn’t give himself time to second-guess what he was about to do. Running the metal quickly, he felt pain burst from every nerve, his body shuddering slightly as he toppled forwards.

Someone was shouting, Merlin could hear it vaguely, over the thumping of his heartbeat. His blood was creeping out, no, racing along the floor, and the men had released Arthur, thrown him back into the Cage that they had been keeping them in.

It was cruel, Merlin thought distastefully, to make the King watch his servant bleed out, with nothing he could do to save it. Arthur was still shouting, curses and profanities mostly aimed at the guards, and Merlin was beginning to think that this had been a bad idea. Everything ached, he was afraid and alone and nobody would ever know how much he had done to save Arthur. Not even Lancelot knew the full extent, the friend that he could hear calling his name.

Merlin let his eyes flick shut, giving in to the overwhelming pain.

**

He wasn’t dead. That much was clear, the sorcerer hesitantly moving his fingers to his neck. The skin was sticky, the blood staining everything, but there was no wound. Interesting, Merlin thought, adding it to the list of things that should be impossible. How had he not died? Nobody with Magic was around, they hadn't healed him.

He could hear Arthur’s breathing. The Knights, slumped in the cell and speaking in hushed tones. It was dark, so he could risk flicking his eyes open and looking out across the darkness. Their forms were huddled, as far away from the blood that had crept under the door as possible.

Breathing. He was breathing, he could feel his chest rising and falling. His Magic hummed under his skin, bubbled up and danced around him, making it clear that he had been the one to heal himself. But how? He had muttered no spell, knew no words that would heal such an injury.

_Immortality, Emrys._

The voice was his own, echoed somewhere deep in the back of his head, and he pondered the word. Immortality.

In some strange way, it made sense. If Arthur was supposed to be a great King, one that legends would be made of, then he would need someone to stay by him. Someone immune to danger. So, if he was immortal, it just meant he could protect Arthur more. It meant he could help the King unite Albion, like he was destined to do.

Every muscle ached, which he noted as a side effect of coming back from the dead. It was hard, tensing each muscle and wiggling his toes to regain feeling, before he heard footsteps. He shut his eyes sharpish, fell still as feet came to a stop next to him.

‘You’ll pay for what you father did, Pendragon. Magic, purged to the edges of existence because of your kind.’ Another angry person with Magic, claiming that everything had gone wrong because of Arthur. He understood, he did, it made sense to naturally hate the son of the man who killed thousands of your kind. But Merlin knew Arthur, knew he was more adaptable to change than his father, that he might be willing to see both sides of Magic.

But not if it kept trying to kill him.

‘My father…’

‘Your father was a liar! A killer, a murderer! The prophecies were wrong about you, Pendragon. You’re no great King.’ That struck something in Merlin, the part of him that kept having to reassure Arthur that he could be everything he was meant to. If this man, this sorcerer, knew of the prophecy, then he also knew about the other half of the coin.

Merlin really didn’t want Arthur to have a heart-attack, but there was no gentle way to come back from the dead, so he just opted for the simple method.

He stood up.

Surprisingly, utter silence fell in the room, and Merlin took the time to stop his head from pounding. Blood loss, he concluded, adjusting his stance and staring at the man in front.

‘I have to disagree.’ That was what he intended to say, but his throat was a little sore and so it came out slurred, probably unrecognisable. In an instant, a sword was pointed at his throat, the man in front looking terrified.

‘What are you?’ Hissed, the words spat out with wide eyes and a shake in the hand holding the sword. Merlin, who was already tired of standing up, leant back against the wall and took a deep breath.

‘Emrys. Merlin. The other half of the Once and Future King.’ That came out clearer. Congratulating himself on the successful sentence, he raised a hand to his throat to check the wound had definitely healed. Sure enough, a slight raised line where he had slit his own throat, but nothing more.

‘You’re a traitor to your own kind!’ The man cried, and Merlin felt his eyes glow of their own accord, his Magic bursting forth to disarm the idiot pointing a sword at him. With that done, he relaxed back slightly, heard a commotion from up above. A familiar strain of Magic washed over him, one he knew very well. Morgana.

‘Arthur’s a pretty good King.’ Merlin concluded his talk with the man, let his eyes fall shut and decided to take a nap, standing up.

Morgana could take it from here.


	2. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin wakes, and expects a second death

Sleep had a weird way of confusing people. So, when Merlin woke from the nap, he was surprised to find himself back in his bed, in Camelot. That, combined with the fact that the door was propped open, meant something interesting must have happened. He moved slowly, testing his body weight and his ability to hold himself upright, before exiting the room.

His first stop, food. Gaius wasn’t in, so Merlin happily snacked down, found himself starving. The food, washed down with the water that he couldn’t drink enough of, eventually filled his stomach and he sat back.

His clothes were mucky. Dirty, and what he finally realised was blood. It took him a moment to connect the dots, and when he did, his hand shot up to his neck. It had been cleaned, there was no blood under his fingertips, but he could feel the raised ridge of where he’d cut open his own throat. A dash to the water bucket, to stare at his reflection and startle when he saw the scar.

He’d need a neckerchief, he supposed, to hide such a thing.

Then, after concluding he was still alive, he had to conclude that Arthur knew he had Magic. He’d used it right in front of him, no regard for the rules, and that could mean one of two things.

Either Arthur was about to kill him.

Or Arthur was going to banish him.

Merlin wasn’t sure which one he preferred, if he was honest, had to sit down quickly to stop himself from falling. If Arthur knew, would he hurt the others? Gaius? Lancelot? No, they wouldn’t tell the King they knew, that would be suicide. Hopefully, they’d stay safe, and Merlin could decide what to do.

If he ran, then he’d never get to apologise to Arthur. And, despite everything, that was his main mission. So, he decided it would be best to get that thing over with, grabbed a jacket and tied his neckerchief around his neck, hiding the scar.

The fresh air was nice, told him he was definitely awake, and with a helpful tip from a Knight, Merlin headed in the direction of the Round Table meeting room.

He supposed he should be thankful that Arthur hadn't hauled him out in chains already, or killed him while he slept. That was a nice thought, maybe after all these years, Arthur was at least a little bit attached to him.

Passing by George on the walk, he kept hold of his usual-snarky remarks, instead offered the man a smile. After all, he needed someone that would look after Arthur, and George was a good servant. Even if Merlin despised him, hated that he rivalled him for the King’s attention.

When he opened the door to the room, he quickly wished he’d snuck in a different way. Arthur froze, from where he had been leaning forwards in his chair, probably to address someone. On one side, Lady Morgana sat, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of seconds. On his other side, Leon, the Knight that would probably be the one to carry out whatever Arthur’s verdict was.

The other Knights, all snapping their heads in his direction, and Merlin fought the urge to look at Lancelot. Now was not the time to incriminate his only friend. Gaius, his father-figure, seated at the table, shooting Merlin a warning look.

Gwen, his best friend, who had tears in her eyes as he glanced briefly in her direction. Perhaps she was crying from his betrayal.

‘Merlin.’ So many times, Arthur had said his name, but he’d never really thought it would be the last one until now. He shut the door, took another step into the room. On the table, beside the King, Excalibur lay. Unsheathed, and Merlin really regretted giving him the sword. It would be painful, dying at the hand of something he had helped to create, but he would make it work. Wouldn’t make Arthur feel any guiltier, for what had to be done.

‘Sire.’ Was he supposed to beg? Plead? He wasn’t quite sure, so stood still, while Arthur continued to stare at him like he’d never seen him before.

‘You should sit down, Merlin. You need the rest.’ Morgana suggested, gesturing to the empty chair by her side. It was his normal seat, the one he sat on when advising the King, his friend. He wasn’t sure if the privilege was something he still deserved, so he glanced to Arthur, and when the King didn’t object, he slowly approached the chair.

Sitting down, still keeping his eyes trained on the sword, he took a breath. This was okay, they were going to talk about his sentence first, he could survive that part.

‘You have Magic.’ Blunt, possibly worse than having to run a blade across his own neck. Merlin looked to the King, his mouth dry despite all the water he’d drunk earlier.

‘Yes.’

‘Gaius informs me you’ve had it since birth.’ Merlin scowled in the direction of his Uncle, the idiot, who shouldn’t have acknowledged that he knew about the secret. Harbouring a sorcerer was just as bad as being one, under the law’s guidance.

‘Yes.’ Simple, one word answers.

‘Morgana tells me that you’re called Emrys.’ He risked a glance to the woman on his left, the Lady Morgana offering him the warmest of smiles, an encouraging nod. Well, if he was going to die, he might as well go down telling the truth.

‘It’s what the Druids call me.’ He had imagined telling Arthur the truth, countless times. Never like this, with a sword that could be used to kill, and a roomful of people also listening.

‘Lancelot says you saved his life using Magic. Mine, too.’ Was he the only sane one here? What part of a treasonous secret did these people not understand?

‘Well, yes.’ He fell silent, not knowing quite how to apologise, or whether Arthur would want to hear it.

‘And you’re immortal.’ He finished, Merlin pondering over the last word.

‘Apparently. I didn’t know that bit.’ That earned him a wide-eyed stare, Arthur’s mouth dropping open, then shutting, rather like a fish. Eventually, his mind seemed to come back online.

‘Are you an idiot?’ Out of reflex, Merlin scowled,

‘Out of everyone in this room, we all know who the idiot is.’ Then, remembering he was being tried for something that was treason, he shut his mouth quickly. Insulting the King wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

‘You didn’t think you’d live?’ What was the point of slitting his own throat open, if he thought he was going to survive?

‘I certainly didn’t do it for a good time.’ Merlin joked, noted how it fell flat, and wished he’d never come into this room. Maybe running had been the best idea.

‘Only you, Merlin, would think it was a good idea to live in Camelot.’ When Merlin said nothing but raised his eyebrows, Arthur elaborated.

‘Magic is illegal. My father would have had you executed, you moron.’ Firstly, rude, and secondly, did Arthur really think him that stupid? He knew that!

‘I had noticed.’ Merlin provided helpfully, earning him a scowl from the King.

‘I wouldn’t have been able to stop him.’ That halted Merlin in his tracks, the implication that he wouldn’t have wanted Merlin to die. But then…

‘You’re not going to kill me?’ Arthur recoiled, looked at him like he’d suggested something insane, before hurt replaced the shock.

‘You think I’d do that?’

‘I just broke the law.’

‘But you’re Merlin.’ Arthur argued, seemingly ending the argument. When nobody else interrupted, Merlin realised that was genuinely enough for Arthur, and Merlin slumped in the chair. He wasn’t going to die.

‘Plus, what would be the point in killing you? You’d come back.’ Arthur was whacked on the arm by Morgana, and then Gwaine threw what appeared to be an apple at him. Merlin, honestly slightly confused by this entire thing, just watched.

‘You’re letting me stay.’ He concluded, and when Arthur didn’t argue, the last bit of fear seemed to slip away.

‘Although we all want the story. Every detail, with nothing skipped.’ Merlin blinked, looked around the room, paused on Gaius. Not even he knew everything.

‘It’s a long story.’ Merlin warned, and Arthur shrugged.

‘I’ve got nothing better to do.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy the second chapter? Thanks to everyone who left Kudos and Comments, I love to hear from you all! :)


	3. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's story, filled with worried Merlin and slightly suicidal tendencies

‘So, er, I guess I should start with the singer, and the dropped Chandelier. I guess that wasn’t that impressive though. And the snakes on the shield, that was dangerous. And when you went to find the cure for the poison I drunk, I guided you with the light to lead you out of danger.

I guess the first really noticeable thing was the Griffin, enchanting the weapon so Lancelot…’ Merlin faltered, but Lancelot gave an encouraging nod, ‘So Lancelot could kill the creature. Then there was Sophia… but that was mostly my fault anyway, I didn’t notice.

Then there was Nimue, when you got bitten by the Questing Beast. I traded my life for yours, but Nimue tried to take my Mother’s, so I went to stop her but Gaius got there first, and I couldn’t let him die, so I killed her. I guess.

I’ve done other stuff, like falling branches for bandits, breaking saddles so that the rider falls, just small stuff to help you out. And the rockfall, when I was injured, to keep you from being taken. I probably should have stopped Morgause then…

The Dragon was my fault. I released him, in return for his assistance to save you, but I had to be true to my word. So many people died,’ Merlin froze, felt the ice in his veins at the memory. Now was not the time to think of it.

‘But we found Balinor, who turned out to be my father, but then he died and I had to stop the Dragon, because you were hurt. There was the Immortal Cup, and Morgause’s attack on Camelot, which I had to stop because you were going to get hurt.

The Wyverns, which it turns out I can partly control because of the whole Dragonlord thing. That comes in handy, I suppose. Some poison attempts, other assassinations, the occasional sorcerer that tries to kill you.

Druids, Uther’s vengeful ghost, but he was going to tell you of my Magic before… Well. And the old sorcerer, Dragoon, that’s me. I mean, me, but older. I couldn’t risk you finding out that I was a sorcerer.

Plus the whole changing destiny, trying to keep Morgana safe from her Destiny, trying to teach her to control her Magic,’ A hand reached for his, and Merlin was more grateful for her than he ever had been before. Somehow, he’d managed to tear up, and cleared his throat.

‘So, yeah. It’s been a fun time.’ Playing it off seemed the easiest way, to avoid the fact that, when he thought about it, most of the issues could have been avoided if he’d been smarter. Quicker. Faster to the solution.

‘And the prophecy?’ Morgana prompted, while Merlin refused to look up.

‘The Once and Future King, and the Immortal Warlock destined to keep him safe. I’m… I’m supposed to protect you, so that you can unite Albion. I thought it would be hard, to begin with, because you were such an idiot,’

_Stop talking now!_

‘But then you actually turned out to be an alright person, a Prince that I would quite willingly die for,’

_You need to shut your mouth!_

‘So it was less of Destiny, and more of loyalty. The Dragon tried to convince me to kill Morgana, because she was supposed to be the one that would eventually cause your death,’

_Way to help him with his sister._

‘But I helped her, I think, control some of her gifts. She’s to be the most powerful High Priestess ever seen, and it turns out that we work quite well together with keeping you safe…’

_You’re getting distracted again._

‘And then there’s your death, which I keep having visions of, because you’re supposed to be slain by the druid boy that I couldn’t kill because he was just a CHILD, but there’s always so much blood, and it’s my hatchling Dragon that enchants the blade to kill you and I’ve been working so hard to stop that.’ Merlin breathed in heavily, only realising how much he had been keeping buried until he started speaking.

‘That’s about it.’ Merlin concluded, stared at Excalibur to avoid looking at Arthur, while Morgana’s fingers traced the back of his hand softly.

‘That’s it?’ Arthur asked, his voice shaky, and when Merlin glanced up, the King looked rather pale. Too pale, perhaps he was ill. He was about to suggest some rest, before remembering that he’d just spilled his entire life story, or at least his Camelot story.

‘I suppose there’s Freya, the Bastet you had to kill because she was cursed and kept changing. She was a druid that I was going to run away with, but she turned and you injured her so I took her to the Lake to try and save her, but she died. She’s now the Lady of the Lake.’ There, it wasn’t so hard, even if the mention of the woman he thought could change his destiny stabbed him deep.

‘Would you look at me?’ Arthur snapped, and Merlin rose his gaze to the King’s, found his eyes with tears. Strange, Arthur very rarely cried, yet now he seemed quite open. Hurt, raw, was it for him?

‘Are you sure you don’t want to kill me?’ Merlin just had to check, because Excalibur was right there, and if he was going to die, he wanted to apologise.

‘We need to have a long conversation about the importance of your life, Merlin.’ Arthur slowly stated, like he was talking to a child. Strangely, the others seemed to be agreeing, evidently were just as worried, but why? Merlin was fine.

‘I’m fine.’ He stated, because it had to be true.

‘Merlin…’ Morgana’s turn, her voice so soft, hands cupping his and soothing,

‘I’m fine.’ Was he crying? Why was he crying? Where had these tears come from, why was he suddenly in so much pain, his chest was tightening and Arthur was moving, as was Gwen, Morgana shoving his chair back. Gwaine was coming, he could recognise the hands that came down on his shoulders anywhere, but it was too much.

His head swam, the faces of those he’d lied to for so long, and Merlin did the merciful thing.

He let his vision close in, his breathing tighten just enough so he blacked out, and the last thing he remembered was toppling sideways from the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Merlin :(


	4. The issue with waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is comforted by the group, but he's still unsure of his future

Merlin was unsure of what had happened, just that he woke back in his room, this time, not alone. Arthur was in the corner, asleep, and Gwen was curled by his side. Morgana was also in the room, awake, and the moment they made eye-contact, he remembered what had happened. That he had told them everything, and then fallen. Off the chair.

‘How are you feeling?’ She murmured, moving closer to the edge of the bed. It woke Gwen, who mumbled something sleepily, before her eyes focused on Merlin. Her arms latched on immediately, and Merlin caught her quickly, hugged her back just as tightly.

‘I’m so sorry, Gwen, I didn’t mean…’ He was cut off by a finger pressing to his lips, before Gwen went back to hugging him. Morgana watched, a smile on her face, but he could see the sadness.

‘I’m sorry.’ He tried again, and Morgana hesitantly crawled up the bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone three of them. It was a funny thing to watch, the sister of the King crawling onto his bed, attempting to settle. She hugged him as well, and the familiar feeling of her Magic reaching out was all the comfort he needed. More than he ever thought he deserved.

‘Oh, Merlin. It’s okay, we’ve got you.’ He was unsure what he had done to worry them so much, but he wasn’t complaining. It was nice, to finally have the secrets gone, to have them hugging him.

‘I didn’t mean…’ He was stopped by Morgana’s tight embrace, then by the unmistakable sound of Arthur’s voice.

‘Am I interrupting something?’ Merlin looked around Morgana to the King, who was watching the trio with a fond smile. Gwen got up, gave him one last hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before leaving the room. Morgana was less inspired to leave, but Arthur’s firm stare made the decision for her. She scowled, rolled her eyes in the direction of her brother, then pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth. Too close to be just friendly.

Then it was just the two of them. And Arthur was staring at him.

‘Sire, I…’

‘I don’t want to hear it, Merlin.’ Fear, that was what he felt rushing over him, the thought of losing Arthur…

‘How could you… You know how much you mean to us, Merlin. How much you mean to me.’ That was enough to freeze him, Arthur wasn’t getting rid of him? Still? After everything he’d admitted to, every bad deed that he’d done?

‘Without you, Merlin, this wouldn’t be Camelot. The group needs you. I need you. How many times you’ve saved me, I wouldn’t be here without you. Camelot wouldn’t have a King.’ Merlin went to argue, it was instinct, but Arthur gave him a look that dared him to try.

‘You make me a good King. And I don’t say it enough, but thank you.’ Merlin must have died, perhaps this was his version of Heaven, because Arthur couldn’t possibly have just said that.

‘Rest up, Merlin. I expect you back at work soon.’ The King smiled, an honest smile, before he walked out, leaving Merlin more baffled than before.

**

Just because the speech had happened, did not mean that Merlin was entirely convinced. His head was still buzzing, the dark thoughts that had been there most of his life slightly louder. Perhaps that was why he was in the restricted wing of the Castle, looking at the books on Magic that survived the Purge. This was a bad idea, he knew it was, but the page was calling to him.

Anti-Magic symbols. Powerful things, that could bind somebodies Magic and prevent it from surfacing. If it really was the Magic that made his acts bad, the sinking feeling in his stomach, then he could momentarily stop it.

It started with a pair of handcuffs that he stole from the Dungeons. The markings, he scratched them in with a knife, sitting down where the Dragon used to reside. He added a little Magic to strengthen them, knew that it was a bad idea to use his gift, but he had to make sure this worked. If he could do this, restrain his Magic for a little while, then it might work. He might be able to become the person that the others needed.

It was a good plan. He just needed to keep it from the others, until he figured out if it would work. What was one more secret, if it kept the others safe?

**

It was late, and Merlin had finally finished the cuffs. He went back to his room, managing to avoid Gaius’s questions, before trying them out. Snapping them around his wrists, putting the key over the other side of the room the Warlock climbed into bed.

It was painful. That was true, it ached, made the pain in his head magnify, but the buzzing was gone. Despite the agony, he could think clearly, the fog lifted from his mind. Surely, if it was hurting, then it had to be working? Merlin lay back, tried to reach down for his Magic, and found it unresponsive. It was slightly weird, to have such an emptiness, but it was better than the fog.

‘It works.’ He murmured, proud that his invention would be keeping Camelot safe. The Warlock rolled over, tucked himself under the blanket and ignored the reddening skin where the cuffs touched his wrists.

**

Kilgharrah wasn’t too worried about Camelot, but he was fond of his kin. Merlin seemed to be the stubbornness needed to keep Magic thriving, as he was the embodiment of the practice. The Old Religion ran through him, which was why the moment the cuffs snapped around his wrists, the Dragon felt something shift.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, just that the ever-present strain of Merlin’s Magic was gone, a hollow emptiness where it usually settled. The Dragon shifted slightly, stared down to the younger, who must also have felt the shift in atmosphere. It could mean very few things. Either Merlin was mortally injured, or he had somehow repressed his Magic. Such a thing would be fatal, eventually, and Kilgharrah decided that he should probably check on Camelot, just to make sure that the Warlock was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning into a longer fic than planned!   
> What do you guys think? Poor Merlin :/


	5. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's taken Merlin a long time to realise he isn't alone

Merlin was not quite sure why he kept attracting the attention of the group, but they were walking around him like they feared he’d do something drastic. Arthur stopped the normal teasing, and Gwen was more likely to hug him. Gaius would reassure him whenever he had the chance, and the Knights stopped the banter that usually kept Merlin grounded.

Morgana didn’t change, which he should have been thankful for. Instead, he found himself disappearing from their gaze more and more often, taking with him the cuffs meant to bind his Magic, and attempting to cure himself of such a disease. It wasn’t working well, the veins on his arms had become silver and swollen, scarring that suited the rest of his body, he supposed.

It ached, burnt his wrists red, and Merlin couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working. Why, every time he took them back off, his Magic soared to life and tried to heal, to repair the damage he had done. He wanted it gone, not coming back with vengeance.

‘Young Warlock.’ He hadn't even realised that Kilgharrah arrived, hadn't noted his presence. Maybe he was dying, that was what this hollow emptiness meant. He just wanted this all to stop, the pounding in his head, the judgemental stares and the pity in the eyes of those he was supposed to be protecting.

And, after all of that, he couldn’t die.

‘I can’t…’ How did he finish that sentence? Kilgharrah, once his mentor, usually cryptic and never that helpful in giving straight answers, instead moved closer to him. Close enough to see the cuffs that Merlin had created, that were supposed to give him the answers he needed.

‘What are you hoping to achieve?’ The Dragon rumbled, voice showing neither sympathy nor anger, and at least he wasn’t treating Merlin differently. However, his question did make Merlin stumble slightly. What did he want? For his Magic to be gone? For him to be gone? It was all so confusing, so difficult to understand.

‘I died.’ He blurted out, knowing how ridiculous it was to be able to say such a thing, while standing in the middle of a forest with a Dragon watching on.

‘I can tell. Your Magic has not yet recovered, nor your mind.’ Did that explain the mess? The constant headaches, and the doubting voices that seemed to be telling him that he wasn’t alright?

‘I… I need it gone. I need something, anything, I can’t…’ The rush of fire was welcome, flames that nipped at his skin and lit up something inside of him, the part of him that came from his father. A legacy of Dragonlords, Magic that hummed under his skin.

He watched in dismay as the cuffs melted away, impossible to do.

‘How did you…’

‘Just as you can break my chains, I can break yours.’ This strange Kin-bond that the Dragon always mentioned, he supposed. With the metal gone, dripping to the floor but not injuring his skin, his Magic returned.

But this time, it did not rush forth. It was gentle, hesitant to come back, slowly creeping up and healing the immediate damage.

‘You’ll be alright, young Warlock. I called for some help.’ The Dragon began to shift, looking back to the sky and spreading his wings. Merlin watched the entire thing, wobbled as he watched his friend return to the dark skies, before he heard a voice.

‘Merlin?’ Morgana stepped out from the shadows, an orb in front of her that glowed brightly. It was of Magic, but neither his nor Morgana’s, so he had to presume that it had been Kilgharrah that called for her.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ Merlin broke, his knees giving out from under him, and he hit the forest floor. The tears didn’t have time to roll down his cheeks, for Morgana was by him in an instant, diving onto the floor with no hesitation.

Like he had done for her, when the nightmares got too much, when she could no longer control what she had been given. Her hands reached out, glowing a soft amber as they cradled his face, the ache in his mind retreating.

Merlin fought. He fought to live, he fought for his Magic to break free, to go back to the way things had been before everything had gone so wrong. Before he’d realised his immortality, and understood exactly what his burden was.

When Morgana’s Magic hit his, the warmth that flooded his veins pushed back the cold that had invaded over the past week, kicked out the darkness that dared to take over. And, when his burning eyes looked up to hers, he could see himself reflected in her gaze.

All this power, and he’d been hiding away. When really, all he needed to do was take a leap, to let somebody else have his trust for once.

‘I’m not leaving, Merlin. Never.’ It coiled tighter, his bright Magic conjoining with the dark-grey of hers, twisting into something that he had not quite thought possible. A balance, a path between them, and Merlin was forced to remember one of the first things he’d ever told Morgana, the night she’d come to practice Magic.

_‘Magic isn’t good, or evil. It’s a balance, between the person who yields it, and the goodness in their heart.’_

He’d been slightly wrong, he realised. Because his Magic didn’t have to just rely on him, it didn’t need him to be strong all the time.

It could rest against Morgana, like it was now, and nothing bad had happened.

‘I can’t thank you enough.’ Merlin muttered, ashamed that it had taken him this long to realise something that should have been obvious. Morgana chuckled, before the last remaining space between them was squashed, her lips sealing over his.

He’d been wrong again, Merlin realised in the back of his mind, as his hands crept out to pull her closer.

He didn’t need to thank her. He just needed to show her.


End file.
